Hospitals and Mysteries
November 2, 1981
London, St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

"She's so cute!" said a sandy haired man, who was bent over a crib. "She looks very much like her mother."

"That she does, I just hope that she didn't get Lily's temper. I have enough with the one my wife already has."

"You always say that the temper is what you love in Lily." A teasing note sounded in Remus's voice.

"Yes, as long as it isn't me that she is venting her temper out on. And that happens far too often."

"Then all you have is hope for Azalea here. Hope that the famous redhead temper skipped this redhead."

"Moony, you can always hope, even if it seems downright ridiculous. And, if you haven't noticed, she isn't a redhead all the time."

Remus paused a bit, looking at the child and then around the pristine white room. Azalea, like the other two occupants of the room, was changing colours, even if her changes weren't as rapid as the other two's. "You are right about that, but she was born with red hair. And that means that her base form is red headed. I think there's very little hope for you of not having a daughter with a temper to match her mother's. But you know what would be worse?" Here Remus paused for a moment, giving James a chance to answer, but James remained stubbornly silent. "She could get your sense of humour and Lily's tendency for holding grudges."

At these words, James shuddered a bit. His wife was famous for her ability to be angry at a person for years. He had been at the receiving end of this particular personality trait for six years. Of course, he had given her more and more reasons to dislike him almost daily — breaking rules that Lily liked to uphold and playing pranks left and right, but the one thing that Lily's dislike had stemmed from had been the very first prank James had played on her — turning her hair green "to match her eyes". She had finally gotten her revenge in sixth year — turning him into a donkey right after they had finally mastered human transfiguration in McGonagall's classes. It was done "to match his looks to his personality", in Lily's words. A small shudder went through James thinking about the possibility of his daughter inheriting that kind of long memory and combining it with his sense of humour, which had never been tame in any sense of the word. Her poor schoolmates will not know what hit them.

"How long will it be until Azalea can leave the hospital?"

"A week at most - she was born a bit early, so we want to make sure that everything is OK, plus the healers want to make sure that her ability doesn't harm her, but, thankfully, there's little chance of that. Still, they would like to be sure." James looked at Azalea and marvelled at how small she was. Harry had been a little bigger than that. Harry...

Remus saw James's rapidly clouding expression and it wasn't hard to guess what he was thinking about. Both of the elder Potters often had that kind of expression on their faces ever since Harry had died a year ago. The pregnancy had returned some of the life to James's and Lily's eyes, but Azalea's birthday being the same day that three month old Harry had died was painful reminder of what they had lost. Remus decided that his friend needed time to think for a bit without distractions, and this room was full of distractions in the form of three babies that changed colours.

"All this white is giving me a headache; maybe we could go and get some tea?"

James considered the suggestion for a moment, but his reluctance to leave the child was very great — he had lost one, and often thought about what would have happened if he had just been there...

"Prongs, she will be all right. The security is very tight, you know, and I don't think that anyone has any kind of reason to attack Azalea right now."

James still hesitated for a moment, but he knew that Remus was right. There were no prophecies about Azalea, no promises of her great powers or her inescapable death. With Harry it had been different — a prophecy that told that he would have power to vanquish the Dark Lord, but would be killed still in his infancy, without a chance to use that power. James didn't understand what was the point of a prophecy that just predicted death, a prophecy that wouldn't change anything in the bigger picture — in the end Voldemort would walk free anyway, because the one with the power to destroy him was dead. Dead because the prophecy had led Voldemort right to the one with the power. However, his little Azalea didn't have anything like that hanging over her head and James couldn't be more thankful for that. He hoped that she would have a chance to grow up, be it with her mother's temper or with his sense of humour — she was his daughter and he knew he would do anything for her, love her no matter what.

"I'm not in the mood for tea Remus, but I think I'll visit Lily."

Both men lingered by the crib a little longer, but pretty soon they turned to leave — one to get some tea, other to visit his wife. But by the door the black haired man lingered for a bit, letting his friend continue forward on his own. The things that made him pause were two cribs that resided in the room along with his daughter's. Unlike Azalea's crib, those cribs didn't have any names on them. A boy and a girl, both with powers to alter their appearance, just like Azalea. However, their powers were somehow more unpredictable — while the youngest Potter's changes were mostly limited to hair and skin colour, the two young, orphaned children had also changed their shapes several times. They hadn't grown any bigger or smaller, but thinner or chubbier seemed to be no problem for either one. Their colour changes also were more extreme than Azalea's. James thought that their skin or hair colours had been in all the colours he knew, and some that he wasn't familiar with, where Azalea changed her hair colours among those that could be seen naturally on people. Even healers admitted that the strength of the gift in the two nameless children was very odd and rarely, if at all, seen in children so young. However, everyone would have been much happier if that was the only thing out of the ordinary when speaking about two of the most recent additions to Britain's magical community.

The first oddity about the children was the way they came to be in the hospital. Neither had been born in St. Mungo's, they had been brought in the previous day, but not by their parents, as would be expected, but by people that were strangers to the children. The boy and the girl had been brought in on the first of November, when they had just turned a day old. The second odd thing was that, after performing the charms to determinate the time they had been born, the exact same time had been shown for both of them — 20:15 October 31, 1981, the same exact time that Azalea had been born. The third odd thing about the children was that no matter how many and how complex spells the healers tried, they couldn't find the names of the children's parents. Usually, the spells didn't work only if the children were muggleborn, but no muggleborn had ever had the ability to morph their appearances at will - it was a hereditary ability. For example, Azalea's grandmother, James's mother Dorea had been a Black and every few generation's metamorphmagus abilities popped up in that family.

James could only wonder who would be so cruel as to abandon a helpless child by the side of the road, as the boy had been, or just leave them in an old park with very little chance of being found before it became too cold, as the girl had been. The boy didn't seem any worse for wear after his adventure — he was a happy child that always made the nurses smile. The little girl, however, wasn't so lucky — she hadn't woken up, but the healers couldn't find anything physically wrong with her. James had heard talk of calling in a mind healer.

One other thing James found odd was the people who brought in the children. For the life of him he could not remember how they looked like or their names even. He knew that the stories weren't fabrications, because he was an Auror — he had checked with his colleagues, who had been called out to the places that the children were found in and both radiated of magic, the kind that young children emitted, with a distinctive flavour of transfiguration — mark of a metamorphmagus. But the people, who found the children, even if they were not liars, were suspicious characters. James tried to remember any detail he could about the two mysterious men, but a call from Remus distracted him and he headed out of the room that was a temporary home for the three newborns.

When he returned sometime later, all thoughts of the men responsible for bringing the two nameless children had left him and a feeling that they weren't important had taken roots in his mind, destroying any notion of pursuing the mystery.

November 5, 1981
London, St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

The last day had been one of the most confusing ones in Sirius Black's life. He had had some bizarre nights and mornings when he had used to go out in muggle London to get wasted when he was younger. Often he had woken up in places that he didn't remember getting to, sometimes even wearing clothes that weren't his (Remus still occasionally teased him about one morning, when Sirius had turned up on his doorstep in a pink dress with his hair in a long braid — only thing that Sirius had been sure about was that no magic had been involved). However, this situation was completely on a different scale of confusing, the kind of confusing that could be called crazy. He was a baby that could change colours, couldn't stop changing colours. He was in St. Mungo's, along with Azalea Lily Potter, who was the daughter of two of his dead friends. That little girl had been born the day that he would forever remember as the worst day of his life — Halloween, 1981. Apparently, she was not the only one who was born that day — his new body came with a new birthday, it seemed.

The thing that was giving him the most problems was the new body — a body of a newborn child that couldn't go anywhere or ask any kind of questions. And he had tried, but even sitting up was impossible and anything he tried to say came out as complete nonsense — as if someone had put some kind of curse on him. This made Sirius very uncertain in the new situation he had been put in. However, there was one thing he was certain of — he wasn't dead. Sure, James and, apparently, Lily were here, but so was Remus, who had been alive when Sirius was hit with the curse from his cousin. The curse he had been hit was one of the darker spells that the Blacks taught their children — it was meant to create illusion of pain, similar to the Cruciatus curse, but concentrated in one place and took less power to cast. Sirius remembered the pain starting and taking a step back, just to feel something silky brush against him. Everything after that was a blur of colours, agony and periods of feeling absolutely nothing. He couldn't remember exact details of his trip to the hospital either, but from what he had gathered, it had been pretty colourful, almost as colourful as him.

The thing he did remember down to the smallest detail was the last scene that he had seen right before toppling in the Veil. Remus's expression as he held back Harry. Harry, who had been just about ready to run after his godfather, refusing to think that there was nothing he could do. Sirius remembered thinking that Remus's expression had been somehow odd — he had been hit with a curse that, while painful, wasn't fatal, but Moony had looked as if he had seen someone he cared a great deal about just die. In a way he had — it was possible that Sirius would never return home from here, wherever that here was. Sirius just hoped that Harry hadn't followed him here, because the last Potter hadn't been too opposite to that idea, judging by the way he had been struggling against Remus's hold. Sirius was surprised that Harry had managed to struggle even that much — some of the strength that Remus had as werewolf bled over to his human form and that made him one strong man, which Harry was not. Harry was a teenager, a scrawny and thin one at that. Only if his magic had decided to act up would he be able to break the hold that Remus had on him. Sirius let out a quiet sigh and with one last prayer that that everyone had gotten out of the Department of Mysteries in one piece, fell asleep.

Sometime later the sound of a door opening woke Sirius up. Through the open doors came a nurse — one of Sirius's most favourite ones. She was somebody who would fit for a job of a kind grandmother. She wasn't old, but her silver hair gave her the look of a woman that had seen many things, whose kind and always cheerful demeanour showed that she hadn't let those things stop her from finding joy in her life. The lines of laughter she had on her face made her look even kinder than the she already was and her smile was infectious. She looked around the room to decide to which of the babies to go to first. She swept her eyes around and soon came to a decision. The two of the parentless children were due for a feeding — the nurses had devised a schedule for feeding them, because neither of them ever asked for anything the way that babies usually would. The girl hadn't woken up even once and the boy just didn't cry.

"Hello, little one." The old nurse cooed, scooping up the little boy that was Sirius Black. However, there wasn't any possibility of her knowing that — she just knew that this baby was in the care of the hospital and she was one of the people that were responsible for him until a home could be found for him. "How long have you been awake? Aren't you hungry? Yes you are, aren't you? Here is the bottle, isn't it tasty?" The first time the nurse had tried to give him the bottle, he had done everything in his power to resist. However that wasn't much — maybe he wasn't a baby mentally, but the body that he was in was baby's. With time he had realised that resistance was futile and he needed to eat. He refused to think about all the diaper changes he had to go trough — he really hoped that this state he was in wasn't as permanent as it seemed.

While he was sucking on the bottle he was also looking around the ward that he was in. He remembered that the ward that Harry had been in after he was born was bigger. This one held just five cribs instead of ten. However, the other babies were what had always gotten his attention. Both of the girls were changing colours at alarming speed, but only one changed her features like he so often involuntary did. Like Tonks had done on purpose to entertain Harry's friends. Tonks was a metamorphmagus. That was probably the purpose of this ward — to separate the babies with metamorphing power from the other children. With the thought of Tonks' power and babies Sirius remembered something that his cousin Andromeda, had told him: "Babies are very sensitive to magic that deals with physical changes. If a baby younger than a week with no metamorphic power is exposed to the company of an untrained metamorphmagus the baby without the powers can be physically affected, and not in a good way."

She had also said that the power of changing ones appearance at will was very rare, but the other two babies in this ward seemed to prove her wrong. And, somehow I also have the power. But how did I get it?

November 7, 1981
London, Ministry of Magic
Department of Mysteries

Harry Potter was sleepy; of course, lately this state was something he indulged in quite often. He had heard that babies needed a lot of sleep in the first months of their lives. However, he had never thought that he would have the opportunity to experience it firsthand. He never thought that he would need to sleep a lot because he was a baby. For that was what he was — a baby. Baby who changed colours and the shape of his nose, mouth and even cheekbones from time to time — an odd baby but still a baby. He didn't know how long he had been like this, with all the time he spent sleeping, but he estimated the time gone by as somewhat close to a week.

Harry could make out very little of his new surroundings, his eyesight had remained as dreadful as it had ever been, — all he knew was that the room wasn't overly big, but it was bright and he was its only occupant. There were two people taking care of him — a man and a woman. Their voices, when they talked, didn't seem old but something in their presence, in their magic gave the impression of age much greater than even Dumbledore's, and Harry was sure that the old Headmaster was the oldest person he had ever met. He was pretty sure he wasn't in hospital and the people that took care of him weren't healers, but beyond that he had no idea — they had never spoken each other's names while in his hearing range, they tended to speak in pet names "darling", "dear" and such, and the faces he saw were always just a blur.

Harry was still sleepy, but refused to go back to sleep — he had already spent too much time sleeping! Usually, within moments of his awakening one of his caretakers would come to see if he needed anything. The young man turned baby was pretty sure that there was some kind of spell on him that alerted them when he awakened. He used the time he unexpectedly had alone to just think.

The new body was probably the result of the trip through the Veil — he remembered the pain that the fire had caused him at first and then the pain that had reminded him somehow of being stitched together. That was probably when this body was created. But why do I have powers like Tonks has? Harry had no answers for this question, nor any other he might think of — doing research or even asking questions wasn't an option. He had tried, but it seemed that his vocal cords right now couldn't handle anything more than crying. One thing he knew about the trip that he had taken was that he felt lighter and nothing was messing with his emotions. He took that as a sign that whatever had destroyed his old body had destroyed his connection to Voldemort, too. But something was still off, something that had gotten added to him during the trip — his mind seemed muddled. Sadly, Harry had had no better luck figuring it out than any of his previous questions.

Harry's head turned when he heard the door opening. From the sound of the steps, they were the ones that usually took care of him.

"Sorry we were so long, little one." Said the blob of colour that appeared over his crib. "We were on the other end of the Department." They always talked as if he understood them. Harry did, but he doubted that many other children would.
Pretty soon he was lifted out of the crib by the woman and given a bottle. He was a bit hungry so he took it.

"You are an interesting child, aren't you? You appeared out of thin air, changing colours and shapes from the very start and never crying. But then you are not the only one like that. You were the second boy to appear out of thin air and a girl arrived just after you. Did you know that?"

So, Sirius was here, that was good, but who was the girl? He didn't think that anyone would have run after him, that somebody would actually let three people be lost to the Veil in one day.

"You have a pretty strong magical bond to that girl."

Well, that was a surprise. He didn't know that many girls on a personal level, and bonds didn't start to form just because, that much he knew. So that narrowed the candidates down to two, maybe three girls.

"The bond started off as a life debt, a strong one at that — you almost died while saving her. And, it seems, she got really hurt while helping you later on. Usually this would render the bond void, but something else seems to connect you two. If you are wondering how I know this, magic always leaves a trace. Admittedly, there are all kinds of traces on all three of you, but the bond between you and the girl is the only magic that binds any of you three to another, which seems a bit odd, if you think about the circumstances that led you here. As to knowing how the bond first came to be, Department of Mysteries is here to study different areas of magic and bonds are one of the subjects we have studied extensively. Bonds that start off as life debts leave specific traces in your magic, and the strength depends on the sacrifice, on how much you were ready to give up just to save this one person." Now, only one person came to mind — Ginny. Sure, he had saved others (Hermione and Gabrielle came to mind), but he had never come as close to dying, while saving a girl, as when he was in Chamber of Secrets. And now she was hurt, because she had come with him to the rescue mission that turned into a trap, but how hurt would she be, if she followed him here. The woman that was holding him spoke again.

"She has been here for a week, but hasn't woken up. All traces of physical injuries were erased during your journey here, but the problem that is plaguing your friend seems to be a mental one. I think you can help her because of the bond you share, actually, I think it's your responsibility — once you save a life you are responsible for it, in a way."

Harry wanted to help Ginny — bond or no bond, no matter what the woman was saying. Ginny was his friend, but he was stuck in a body of a newborn and Ginny was god knows where. How could he help her? It seemed that that question somehow showed in his eyes and the old woman that didn't sound so old said to him.

"Go to sleep and think of her, the bond will do the rest."

November 7, 1981
Ginevra Molly Weasley's mind

A teenage girl with flowing red hair stood in a bare field. She didn't know for how long she had stood there, but nothing had changed in this time. The field was still bare, only tufts of brown grass could be seen every few steps. The trees that stood guard around the field were dry and brittle — the girl had checked and any branch she touched just broke or turned to dust.

Suddenly a sound penetrated the silence that had surrounded the girl so completely. She didn't remember ever hearing a sound like that, but then, she didn't remember anything. It's sound of steps — someone is coming - a little voice supplied — it seemed that at least some part of her remembered some things. The girl turned toward the sound and saw a boy step out of the trees. He seemed to take care not to touch anything. Upon stepping out of the tree line he stopped and looked around with his green eyes. Pretty soon they landed on her and somehow hesitant smile that was full of relief appeared on his face.

"Ginny..."

The name sounded familiar but, again, she could not remember, so she decided to ask the boy, to say word that she had no memory of ever learning or hearing.

"Who is she, do I know her?"

The boy's face seemed to fall at her question and any relief he might have felt moments earlier evaporated.

"You could say that you know her — Ginny is your name."